“Daddy.. Daddy.. Daddy no, I don't want you to die. Pedro, where are you, Pedro? Oh God no! An ambulance? Casa Quinte, damn!! Pedro, don't let him die, please. Papa.. what's all this blood? Damn, damn! Aunt Saniya, hurry, please.” Layla hid her nightmare under the rug of her dreams and slept to the rhythm of his and Pedro's snoring. Death punished her harshly whenever she tried to cope with life until she became addicted to all forms of absence.. the absence of the soul with the presence of the body, the absence of the body with the presence of the soul, the absence of both body and soul together. Pedro was the only exception in her life, deeply immersed in the cold of absence, as he combined the presence of both body and soul, and she clung to him with her spirit and body. Damascus, the city filled with pain, let her down by pushing her towards São Paulo, and São Paulo, the city full of procrastination, let her down by bringing her back to Damascus. Silent as wood facing a pain she couldn't pinpoint, Layla made her decision, opting for the ultimate remedy: cauterization. And here is the Casa Quinte Hotel with its Damascene and Aleppo branches dragging her by the ears again, depriving her of what she loves just like it deprived her of those she loved. Between pain and procrastination, her heart pounded like a marathon to remind her every now and then that she was “technically” still alive. “Bitterness can only be countered with sugar, my girl,” perhaps there lies the secret word.

Publishing house: Dar Al Farabi for Publishing and Distribution Number of Pages: 312 Year of publication: 2015